


the loves you had left

by Medie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>without John and Atlantis, she doesn't know who she is and that should scare her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the loves you had left

**Author's Note:**

> for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/swficathon/profile)[**swficathon**](http://community.livejournal.com/swficathon/) much thanks to [](http://amitee.livejournal.com/profile)[**amitee**](http://amitee.livejournal.com/), [](http://lollobrigida.livejournal.com/profile)[**lollobrigida**](http://lollobrigida.livejournal.com/), and [](http://mari4212.livejournal.com/profile)[**mari4212**](http://mari4212.livejournal.com/) for their betas and [](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/profile)[**havocthecat**](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/) for the hand-holding and the title which comes from the anne sexton poem [ Elizabeth Gone](http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/annesexton/579)

_And the loves you had left, Elizabeth,  
Elizabeth, until you were gone._

 

She takes an apartment in Colorado Springs, sight unseen. An agency contracted by the SGC finds it for her. Her neighbors are all scientists, officers, people connected to the program and, mercifully, they leave her alone.

*

Her first night outside the Mountain, Elizabeth refuses to let the whole of what's happened sink in. She can't deal with it right now and she's not going to. She's been home before, this is no different. It's a simple matter of switching into that 'vacation' mode and staying there.

Simple.

She starts her little unexpected leave by ordering Korean food and catching up on her tv. It's a slob's life and she thinks she's earned it. She's spent several years working far too much, eating far too little, drinking enough coffee to drown Atlantis and then some. A little relaxing is exactly what the doctor ordered. Or, rather, she thinks it would be except she didn't answer when he called.

Elizabeth falls asleep halfway through the second season of House (through which she's been empathizing mightily with Lisa Cuddy) and dreams that she is House's latest patient. He tells her she's sick with nanotisis and cures her with an MRI.

Inexplicably, Carson immediately shows up and pouts, so she apologizes profusely.

John sits by her bed in the dream, like he did in reality, abut this time he makes her laugh by pretending to be her husband and shamelessly hitting on Cameron _and_ Chase right in front of her.

She wakes up giggling when Chase starts flirting back.

It takes her a second to realize she isn't in Atlantis and that she's alone. When it sinks in, her giggles cease and Elizabeth glances balefully at the little clock on the dvd player then rolls over on the couch.

She goes back to sleep telling herself that she hasn't been this tired in years and, no, she doesn't miss John.

*

There's a small market near her apartment building, Elizabeth discovers it when she finally ventures outside. After a few years of alien cuisine and alien spices, take-out just doesn't hold the appeal that it once did.

She wishes she had some of the Athosian herbs she's tried but she contents herself with trying to match them and, possibly, recreate some of the dishes she'd grown fond of. It's a good way to spend a few hours even when she catches herself putting back a lemon.

Elizabeth half-laughs, half-sobs when she realizes what she's thinking. Still, she leaves the lemon where she put it and moves on. Briefly, she thinks about calling Kate but calling a psychiatrist over an episode with a lemon is a _bit_ much, she thinks.

Still, she has to consciously pull her hand away from her cell and doesn't admit that she's afraid that Kate will ask how she's doing.

That's not a question she's quite ready for yet.

If she's honest, she admits that it's not a question she can say she'll ever be ready to answer.

*

There was a time when Elizabeth Weir could have been called a Martha Stewart wannabe and not just because of her workaholic tendencies. In another life she thinks she was probably a very overly-enthusiastic interior decorator. Her favorite part of moving was the redecorating of her new home. But not this time.

Her little apartment isn't much but it has nice lines. She could make it a home easily if she wanted to.

She doesn't, not really. In fact, she's barely thought about it. After her House marathon, she briefly considers reality tv but somehow compared to her reality, Survivor just doesn't cut it. She tries reading but none of the books that should interest her do.

John calls, she picks up her cell but doesn't answer.

She doesn't answer any of them but his is the only call she _wants_ to. She can still feel his touch on her body like phantom pain and she closes her eyes against it, grips the cell tighter when it rings. There's no real reason why she doesn't answer, not that she can think of or, at least, not that she can admit to herself. She thinks, maybe, it's as much about the city as it is about John and that makes sense in a way. She's not sure how to have him _in_ her life if that life isn't in Atlantis.

He calls again, the third time in as many hours, and this time...she turns off the phone.

*

She dreams about him that night, dreams about _the_ night. It's impossibly real and she can feel the railing of the wall against her stomach, the slow and lazy motion of their bodies moving together. Her fingers flex on her bedpost but, it's the railing in Atlantis she feels beneath her fingers.

The first time she had sex with John Sheppard the whole damn city could have seen. If, that is, anyone had been living in the rest of it. In her sleep, Elizabeth thinks the same as she did then. She wouldn't have cared if they could. John's hands on her, her hands on the city...

She wakes up before she comes but the memory is still there and Elizabeth growls in aggravation, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

Overheated, she throws the covers back and rolls over onto her stomach. She punches her pillow then settles down, except she can't. When she closes her eyes, she can feel his hands sliding up her legs with his body slowly pressing down onto hers.

Frustrated, she flips over again and slides a hand down her body, wishing it was his. She hears the catch in her breathing and imagines his chuckle, she can almost feel it radiate through her breast. If she tries hard enough, she can picture him in her mind's eye, dark head bent over her breasts as his mouth slides over the sensitive skin. It's not quite good enough, not real enough but she imagines it anyway, groaning when her fingers slide over her clit.

The last time they were together in the city, it was a new room he'd uncovered on one of his nightly runs. John's spent more time exploring Atlantis than any of them and he shared his discovers with a child's eagerness, pulling her into his newfound treasure.

The patterns on the wall had been new, she had seen them in records of other Ancient sites but none in the city. She can still feel the raised ridges of the wall as she'd slid her fingers over then, tracing out the alien lettering with a slow, near-worshipful grace. John's eyes had followed her every movement, she can't forget the way his watchful gaze had traced her movements in a echo of her hand on the wall. His body had been against hers even before he moved, Elizabeth moans with the memory of it. The intent crossed the distance between them before his legs could cover it and she slips a finger inside, remembering his hands as they had landing on her hips and pulled her back against him.

The breeze from her apartment window is poor substitute for the heat of John's breath on her neck and Elizabeth scowls in frustration, a curse sliding over her lips.

_"Say it,"_ he loves it when she speaks Ancient and he always asks.

Even with him miles away, possibly light years, she does. She speaks the words again, easily remembering them, though this time they're ragged with her breathing. John can't hear her but Elizabeth quotes it into the silence of her bedroom, moving her fingers faster though they are a poor substitute.

When she comes, it's an unsatisfying shadow of the memory and Elizabeth falls asleep to the phantom sound of waves outside her window.

*

John sends her an email, she doesn't respond.

She ignores the phone calls of Rodney, Carson, and Kate all in that order but it's not the same and she knows it. She doesn't answer them but it's John that she's avoiding. To see one of them would be awkward but she could handle it, she's spent her career breezing her way through awkward situations. One after another she's handled with grace and aplomb, she's made her name on it.

Seeing John would be something far worse than awkward. It's John that she needs to see as much as she wants to see and it's John that she can't bear to face.

With the passage of time it's getting harder and harder to pretend that this is just a vacation. There's an imaginary clock in the back of her mind ticking constantly to remind her. She knows she can't avoid John forever. Both because he deserves better and because the need to see him is growing stronger, and eventually it will overpower her fear.

She's having their morning cup of coffee alone in her little kitchen and watching the sun come up, when the thought occurs to her. Her heart does a little flutter when the understanding settles into her chest and she doesn't know if she's terrified or excited by it.

She thinks its a whole lot of both and that doesn't make it any easier.

John is an ever present companion in her thoughts now and she's not sure how to shake him or even if she _wants_ to. She's lost track of the amount of times she's turned, his name on her lips and a thought in her mind to share with him. The scary thing about John Sheppard and Atlantis, they both shared the knack of swallowing Elizabeth Weir whole. She's gotten lost inside his life and the city, there were days when she didn't know where she was in it all and the terrifying part was how much she loved it.

She doesn't know who she's supposed to be now without them and she needs to find that out before she can let herself even think of truly opening that door again.

If she ever actually does.

*

It's cliché but true, you can never really know who you are until you know where you've been. Elizabeth wakes up one morning seized with the idea of writing her memoirs. It's insane really, the military would have to kill anyone who actually read it (and she can imagine the grumbling over _that_) but she still wakes up, throws back the covers and gets out of bed. She is going to write her life story, or at least the moment that she thinks she really came alive.

With the decision made, the matter of how she'll do it comes into play and that's a question. Somehow, a laptop feels wrong. She could requisition one from the SGC if she needed to, she can certainly go pick one up at the store if she needs to (two years of rather impressive pay and nowhere to spend it? If she felt like herself, Elizabeth thinks she'd have one hell of a shopping spree) but she doesn't want one for this. This is going to be an experience that requires the feeling of putting pen to paper.

She's honest with herself when she admits that this is to be cathartic writing all the way and she's not the slightest bit sorry.

If anything, she's cheerful for the first time since the wormhole closed behind her.

*

She decides that to write her memoirs, she's going to need a new pen.

When she was six, Elizabeth decided she would write her memoirs and her Daddy bought her a blue fountain pen to use. Her memoirs weren't very long or very interesting (or properly spelled) but he read them like they were the best book ever written.

He can't read these but Elizabeth needs a blue fountain pen just the same.

She finds a little hole in the wall store on a side street. It's like something out of a Hemingway novel and Elizabeth relaxes in the comfort of its oak-lined shelves. She takes time, first, to look for just the right fountain pen and ends up buying six. She comforts herself with the little extravagance by reminding herself that she'll need at least that many to accurately describe the first two weeks in the city alone.

With her pens sitting comfortably in the little paper sack, Elizabeth goes back to exploring the store with interest. If there was anything that she actually missed when she was in Atlantis, things like this were what she missed.

She dallies in the store, picking out leather bound journals that she'll never actually start, candles she thinks Teyla would like, presents for John, Rodney, and a few others. It feels ridiculous to buy gifts she won't give but a rebellious part of her insists on doing it anyway.

The same part that's whispering about seeing John, going back to Atlantis.

It's the part that Elizabeth can't help but humor. She's always been the pragmatic one, always responsible, and right now she doesn't _want_ to be. She wants to be the Elizabeth that she is with John, the one that can have debates on the merits of Leia's _Return of the Jedi_ bikini and even tease him about seeing her in it just to watch him squirm.

She leaves the store with an armload of packages and a smile.

*

Writing turns out to be difficult in a way she hadn't really expected. The facts and the numbers, the statistics and the dry data comes easily but the subjective, emotional parts that tie it all together aren't so easily seduced. She can see it all in her mind, how it was and how she wanted it to be, but when she puts pen to paper it is nigh impossible to find the words.

Until, that is, she finds the easiest part in John Sheppard. She burns through two pens and three cups of coffee on their first year in Atlantis. She writes until her hand cramps up and she's force to take a break. It's typical of John that he be the easiest part of this to write when she's having the most difficulty avoiding him in her own thoughts. He always seems to go out of his way to be maddening and now, he'd managed to find a way to do it without even being in the room. She shakes her head and laughs, waiting for her hand to relax.

In the course of writing she gets to know the delivery boys at her favorite restaurants on a first name basis and knows they've never had it this good with tips. Elizabeth resolves to join a gym somewhere around John shooting Kolya and decides she doesn't care by the time the Wraith ships were sighted en route to Atlantis.

She never gets to write beyond that because that's when Carson comes to the door.

*

"Elizabeth..."

John and Rodney are already at the restaurant when Carson half-drags, half-pushes her through the door. They're waiting just inside the door, Rodney complaining over the table they're supposed to be sitting at while John nods along and doesn't really listen.

He does that a lot, Elizabeth's learned to recognize the expression.

When he sees her, he stops and stares at her with all the desperation of a drowning man. Elizabeth thinks she's probably doing the same to him.

"John," she says in answer to his greeting, her voice sounding strange and alien to her ears. He smiles anyway and she can't stop herself from smiling back. "Hello."

Rodney and Carson make themselves scarce, muttering excuses as they go (well, Carson goes, Rodney's mostly dragged) and Elizabeth tries not to laugh at the transparency of it.

She's not alone.

"We're the worst kept secret in three galaxies, you know that right?" John's smile is strained and she can see his hand flex, knows he's only just stopping himself from reaching for her.

"Yes," she laughs, "I know, at least they're pretending we're discreet."

He nods, scratching at the back of his neck as he sneaks a look at her. "You, uh, you didn't answer the phone...ever." It's not so much an accusation as a question and Elizabeth swallows hard at the confusion in it.

"I know, I'm, I've..." She smiles sadly and shakes her head. "I couldn't really," she explains, frustrated with her own inability to explain. After everything that she's struggled through in the past few weeks, it almost sounds silly when she tries to put it into words now. "I just needed..." She tries again, pushing her hands down over her hips. "I..."

John's hands close around hers, thumbs stroking little soothing circles on her skin. She exhales and resists the urge to lean into him, surprised by how tired she still is. "You needed time," he shrugs, resting his forehead against hers as if he's the exhausted one. "I get it."

When he doesn't, he misses by light years, but when John gets it there's no one else like him.

She smiles and closes her eyes. "I missed you," she confesses.

His lips move over her forehead, feather-soft, and Elizabeth lifts her face for the kiss she knows is coming. He kisses her in a way that hints at the reunion he _really_ wants and the mental image that forms in her thoughts is damned distracting.

It makes it a difficult challenge to remember where they are when she parts her lips beneath John's and he greedily pulls her closer in answer to the invitation. She's been existing on the fumes of memories for weeks and having a taste of the real, of warm flesh beneath her hands, it's a lifeline that she's not ashamed to cling to. Atlantis has taught her that much. Being weak has nothing to do with needing help.

When she finally breaks away, it's with a breathless laugh and a nod in the dining room's direction. "Carson and Rodney..."

John gulps down a breath, the look in his eyes like he's already seeing her naked (and when he looks at her like that, she wishes that she was.) "Yeah," he nods. "They'll be wondering, uh, what happened."

She tries to hold back a giggle, remembering their expressions. "I don't think they'll be doing much of that."

He flushes and grins sheepishly, "Right, worst kept secret in three galaxies."

*

Dinner almost feels like normal. So much so that Elizabeth has to remind herself Ronon and Teyla are in another galaxy, not just running late. That is, she reminds herself when she can tear her eyes away from John. He watches her every move with an intensity she remembers in a visceral, whole-body blush sort of way. She licks suddenly dry lips and uncrosses then crosses her legs, her body coming alive to the promise of his eyes.

That's precisely when their phones begin to ring.

*

Elizabeth has held a gun before. She's spent hours training with John at her back, hands guiding hers.

She used to believe she would never use one for any reason but life has taught her otherwise. When she entered the diplomatic service she was as close to idealistic as idealistic got but time and the failures of diplomacy blunted her near zealotry like water on a stone. A constant parade of them, the Balkans, the African continent...Rwanda sticks beneath her breast, pricking her heart with the faces of the massacred.

Elizabeth still remembers the sharp bitter edge of that failure. The instant she realized that all her reasoned words and good intentions would not sway the State Department or the Pentagon to her cause.

She's learned words can fail, a gun can fail, and total dependence on one without respect for the need of the other is to take the fool's path in life.

She hears Jack's orders delivered via Landry and feels that bitter edge rise again. _Not again..._

The resolution settles in her stomach and spreads outward, it's comforting warmth enveloping her.

She thinks of Jinto and the other Athosian children, of Teyla and Ronon, and she thinks of her beautiful city in ruins, she thinks of it all and _knows_.

*

Elizabeth waits until she and John are alone before she allows it to bubble to the surface.

Shoving him against a wall, she kisses him fiercely and his reaction is immediate. His hands pull her flush against him, his mouth giving hers the battle it wants.

"We're going back," she tells him in ragged breaths, clutching fistfuls of his shirt.

John nods once, silently. He'll follow her into hell if she asks him and now she's asking.

She knows which Elizabeth she wants to be and she smiles grimly, determined.

"We're going back."


End file.
